The Heart Of Eden
by LazyCatFish
Summary: The daughter of a wack job scholar from The King's College becomes the host andeyes of a being called Pluto after she touches his prison: A simple golden prism. Changed the title!
1. chapter 1-4

'The Coup De Grâce', An 'Assassins Creed' Fanfiction

Summary: Helene Van Brynn is the daughter of a templer scholar archeologist Godfrey and frontiers woman Rosemary. When her father is killed by an assassin on his expedition, She takes it out herself to continue his research and discovery.

Characters: A lot of OCs, Haythem Kenway, Shay Patrick Cormac.

My serious and some obnoxious O.Cs present in this horribly planned fanfic:

Rosemary Van Brynn: Helene's mother. A chronically pissed off woman.

Godfrey Van Brynn: A dad who is obsessed with finding the unknown. Too bad he gets killed and never has a part in the story.

Daniel "The Mouse" Crackerhouse : A young assassin with a funny name. The fact that people laugh at his name makes him furious. He is called the mouse because of his nimbleness, small physique and he is good at escaping through small metaphorical cracks.

Aunt and Uncle Van Brynn: The notorious Templar in-laws. Who are whimsical and prudish. Who own land in sleepy hollow and in New York City.

Thugbert Fudge: The drunken hunter. Not his real name. A two-faced asshole. Real name: Tillman Snitz.

Louie De Frog: An alias tooken by an insane Frenchman who is really good at jumping from the hot pad to the lukewarm pad. A man who takes insults as compliments with deadly accuracy and amour. He loves frogs. Louis Les Mercedes.

Paquena Laquena: A scheming and deathly woman. An alias. A master of disguise.

Helene Gabrielle Van Brynn

Born : 1735-179?

Birthday: December 28, Capricorn

Heritage: Dutch and French Canadian

Height: 5 feet and 8 inches

Weight: It is rude to ask

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Blonde

Occupations: Daughter, Artist, Abductee, researcher,

Hobbies: Journal, Target Practice, poetry, violin

Likes: Discovering new things, the smell of roses, composing music and poetry, cats, violin, fancy guns and knives, being fawned upon, traveling to new places, ticking people off, making insulting aliases for shady and people she doesn't like or know their names.

Dislikes: Getting kidnapped, drunken men, getting drunk, mirrors, killing defenseless creatures , the smell of molasses, corsets, the smell of shit filled cities, Wearing shoes, smothering family, the sound of birds in the morning, sound of church bells, bar fights, feeling or being a burden on others, feeling useless.

Favorite Food Beverage: French macaroons and cider

Family: seven siblings, Godfrey and Rosemary Van Brynn.

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Chapter 1: Fallen Autumn (late September, 1757)

I played a melody. Full of the darkness and the mystery of the wilderness. My soul was one with the music created by these hands. I sat on the railing of the porch in front of my mother's house. With the violin my father gave me for my birthday last spring. Nothing else existed.

Until my mother walked out of the brush with her game of the day. A dead deer hoisted over her shoulders. My Mother's name was Rosemary. A great woman who learnt to survive by her French Canadian parents.

"Helene, You play nicely. Only if your hunting skills were as great as your violin skills." She said walking up the wooden stairs.

"I hate killing defenseless animals." I said as my mother prepared to skin the dead male deer.

"Your father taught you that. I should have married a trader not a scholar who wanders the forest looking for something that doesn't exist... I should have left you back in New York with my sister and her husband. Then maybe by now you would have found a nice husband." My mother said with her knife in hand, she cut open the deer's stomach.

"A husband? Helene wash my clothes! Cook me dinner! Why was our baby crying all night long?, I'm going to fight in a war, Helene, so you better survive somehow because I might die fighting." I mimicked a common husband.

"That sounds like my life. Between you and me, Husbands are useless at this time. But for you darling daughter it's the opposite." My Mother said skinning the deer. I could not bare the sight of blood.

"The ideal man doesn't exist. My standards are too high for any drunken idiot who comes knocking on my door." I said with a laugh.

"That is good to know my eldest daughter has high standards."

"Still I wonder when father is going to return."

My mother looked at me with her sorrowful green eyes and said: "We are lucky if he's alive, If he dies by an assassin's blade, Then he's in god's hands."

"I suppose you are right, Mother."

Chapter 2: The Lady Of Self-Calamity

(In which Helene gets captured by an assassin named Daniel Crackerhouse .)

The next day my mother left early in the morning. I rolled out of my bed, dressed in my fall attire, A multi layered dress of the color purple and my white apron. Entered my father's hovel of an office and removed a large box from a corner and opened it. I had to know what he was doing and why?

A note book and a gold prism device inside a cotton bag. The device glowed purple when I touched it. The light filled out the room and blinded my eyes. Then I heard a man's voice:

"You will be the new guide to the paradox of physical origin."

"What?"

"By touching my prison and home, I will give you the sight to find my greatest invention which will be only found by you."

"It's invisible to the naked eye? Who are you?" I asked the device.

"You may simply call me Pluto and yes it is invisible to the naked eye, only the one with my sight can find it, that is you." He confirmed. His whispering voice like an echo.

"If that is what you wish."

I climbed back upstairs and read my father's journal in front of the fire. This was his research notebook that was too important to bring with him.

The paradox of Pluto according to professor Cornelius's Barnaby and my father transcends time space and physical matter. Breaking each into separate events and organisms. Through the paradoxical mystery device at the location of the ancient invention.

"Give me that book, woman."

I turned around and saw a pale, skinny, twiggy and tall young man with messy rat colored hair, and pointed features. I could not tell his eye color because of the hood attached to his shabby brown coat.

He walked up to me in his leather boots. Soft stomps on the dirty ground floor. He motioned his left hand to me with a smile. So he is left handed.

"Why should I give this to you? Assassin?" I requested holding back.

"Those are important notes taken by two of the most genius minds in this continent on a subject the could change how humanity lives." He said merging closer to me.

"You will never find it without the golden prism... I read it all." I said assured of logic.

"I came for the prism, Also, Is it still in the bag?" He spoke calmly trying not to make me do anything dastardly with the object of his desires.

"No, I picked up the prism will my hands and it spoke to me."

His calm exterior turned inside out. "No! You idiot! Did it choose you?"

"Yes,"

The messy haired assassin thought for a moment and assaulted me.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, struggling to break free from his grasp. He made me pass out.

Chapter 3: Calamity And The Mouse

I woke up feeling a constant shaking, as if I laid in a babies cradle. In reality; I was on a poorly structured ship. I opened my blue eyes and the assassin was there sitting on a barrel with his scrawny arse. With his hood down; he had hazel eyes.

"Good morning, Helene Van Brynn,"

"You never told me your name? Murderer?"

He introduced himself with much enthusiasm," I am Daniel Crackerhouse the mouse. I am 22 years old. Yes, I have killed templers." He wore a chain necklace with two templer rings. One was my father's. He kept these as trophies.

Crackerhouse? Funny.

"You killed my father!" I cried: "He was just a weak man who could not defend himself!"

"I don't care. He was just a target." The mouse unemotionally chirped. "But thanks to your foolish actions I don't have to find a volunteer for the prism. The scholar's daughter is the perfect person. Did he ever teach you about archeology?"

An interrogation?

"Everything that he could teach me. What makes you think I would work with the person who mercilessly killed my father? Over the paranoia of national dominance?"

He placed the prism in my two hands. "You, Holder of the prism shall light my way to the sacred unknown, if she likes it or not, By the powers that be: You have no choice, My crossed enemies would say the same thing, They would be a little more ruthless with dealing with a spiteful wench like you."

"You are not good at making friends are you? Daniel the mouse? I can see why the assassins called you 'The Mouse' because you have the emotional depth of one and you sound like a mouse. The improper question is: Do you have the libido of a rodent?" I began to laugh like a banshee.

He glared at me; "Is that question supposed to be insulting?"

"If you take it as insulting. Do you?" I raised my brow.

"You are rather witty, I do have such. I will take it as a compliment." Daniel grinned touching his chin with his left hand.

"Don't think of ever getting friendly with me, I will make you a eunuch!" I claimed holding the prism tighter.

"Why would I be interested in a woman with no sense of her style or wiles"

"Why would I like a man who kills because a scheming master mind tells him to and a man who would pass as a woman if he cross-dressed." I hope he never does that. After this he probably will to get back at me.

We were silent for a moment and he spoke, "Once you set your sight on our destination, there is no longer a will to ignore it."

Chapter 4: The Mousetrap

A few days later. Daniel returned to my prison. With a violin, a satin dress, and boots.

"You will play for my sailors, Put this on."

I took the dress and the boots from Daniel."Fine."

He left the chamber and stood outside. I removed my apron and my withered plain purple dress. Slipped on the red dress over my white under layers. Untied and tomok off my old shoes and squeezed my feet into the dark leather boots.

Daniel returned, grabbed my arm and lead me to top deck. The sunlight hurt my eyes for a few seconds. Opening up I felt several wandering eyes on me and smiles. I was a small speck compared to all these seafarers. I felt metaphorically naked.

Daniel gave me a fur coat and the violin and kindly added: "Please play for us."

Music was an instrument much more powerful than weapons and words. It's rival was; the mind. I placed the violin to my shoulder and the bow in my left hand. I began to play a light hearted lyric. After I finished, The sailors clapped and bravo to me, then they returned to their stations.

Daniel with his bony left hand took me by the shoulders and whispered:

"We are not far from the place where I killed your father, Gaze up to the sky ,it will show you the way to Pluto's paradox, as well as the stars at night."

I looked up to the sky and saw different kinds of symbols ; A dead language of both hieroglyphs and cuneiform. Between star formations. Then I saw something man made; A flag in the distance coming straight at us, a ship.

The ship rammed Daniel's ship at full momentum. Daniel forced me face down to the wood deck. Before the fighting started he pushed me back below deck.

"Go back to your room and don't make a sound." He gave me the violin before he raced back to the fighting.

"I hope you bite the bullet! Arse hole!" I screamed back at him.

I laid down peacefully on the cot on the floor and listened to the cries and shouting above me. I held the prism on my stomach with both of my hands. Even though the primal god was silent, I knew he was listening and watching, not to them but to me.

I felt a drop of blood land on my cheek, the blood seeped through the wood deck. I whipped it with a handkerchief and stared at the red. Why must blood be spilt? For such petty reasons? I felt the tears stream down my face, burning my eyes.

After a while. The cries stopped and everything minimized to silence. The door slowly opened to my room and walked in a new man. He wasn't handsome nor was he ugly. A fearless crusader. Flat dark hair and brown eyes, strong and angular face.

"You must be Helene Gabrielle Van Brynn, I am here by the wishes of Munro to return you back to your kin," He said straight to the point and bluntly.

"Yes, I am her. Who are you? Sir?" I asked sitting up on the cot.

"I am Shay Patrick Cormac. Former assassin."

"Oh, I see." I passed out from insomnia, shortly after.


	2. The Social Climbers

Chapter 5: The Social Climbers

He brought me back to my Aunts and uncles house in New York. Their house was one of the first to be built in the town. The home had its own picket fence and garden. Plus many apple trees were grown in the fields of the property and tulips from the motherland.

The servant Delilah was the one to greet us. She was a frail young woman who is a survivor of a horrible disease which has left her scarred. She left without saying anything.

The house was decorated colonial style with a two fire places, several paintings, one of my aunt, and several of the both of them, and well built furnishings made in this town. As well as china from England.

My aunt and uncle were conversing with the Scottish general. My mother was with them.

"Mother? I am back." I said coming out from behind her.

"Helene! What have you done?... Thank you so much for returning my daughter to her family, Mr. Cormac." My mom started with me and ended with the fearless crusader.

"If this serves the greater, there is no need to thank me." He said respectively to my mother.

"So how are your daughters? General Munro?" I asked the man sitting in a chair next to the stone fire place.

"They are doing fine, Miss Van Brynn." He replied politely. "Your father was a genius and an enterprising man of great knowledge and determination, His loss was a loss to us all, our cause, but even greater for his own family."

I nodded with equal respect: "Your recognition is most heart felt in the core of my soul."

The younger sister of my father calls herself Greta Van Brynn and her husband is actually an English William Hamish Slade. A contradictory man of a sudden sugary fortune after the deaths of his three older brothers in the last war. Before that he wanted to live a life of a poet but fate contracted that too. While for Greta she is quite obsolete and had a practical and plain life. By the paintings she still looks the same as she was when she was ten years old: A dutch styled braid and a dimple smile but now much older and twice as ignorant.

"Helene, You foolish woman. You almost gave your poor old mother a heart attack." Greta patronized me from behind her hand fan.

"How did you find out who took me?" I requested putting the prism on the coffee table.

"Almost a week ago: We were informed by a rather repulsive figure. The kind of low dweller who hangs out at taverns and gets immensely drunk." William foretold using the fork to turn the fire wood.

"I was gone for THAT long?"

"Yes, You were." Greta claimed.

"So, Where are my brothers and sisters?" I asked.

"They are in their studies. Best not to disturb them." William remarked taking a tea cup from the tray on the coffee table.

I left them and returned to my mother: "Did they do anything to you? Rape you or torture you?"

"No, Mother, They didn't." I claimed honestly.

"That is good." She hugged me almost crying. "That would be horrible and scarring..."

"Shay, Did you kill Daniel Crackerhouse the mouse? The hooded assassin who dresses like a bum?" I hoped his answer would be yes.

"He escaped without a fight by jumping into the river waters. Back with the assassins Daniel is a beginner who has been lucky in his pursuits in against the Templers." He explained frankly.

"Oh, I see the mouse has survival instincts." I felt disappointed. Predictable that Daniel would run away instead of fighting and being killed. What a coward! "Still, I myself have not thanked you formally. If it wasn't for you I would still be with that mouse and probably dead by now. Thank you so much!" I nodded.

"It all is due to the quick thinking of General Munro and your family, My part was a vary small part of it."

Greta took my arm and lead me away: "Let's get you in some better clothes."

"As such?"

"A corset, a pretty dress, make up and jewelry." She noted as we went up stairs.

"A corset? Are you trying to kill me by suffocation or rupturing my organs?" I stopped in defiance. "I have seen some women with deformed waistlines because of corsets!"

"God, Helene! Beauty is pain! Do you want to grow older and became a spinster haggard?" Greta detested. "Don't say it won't happen or will not be horrible because it will."

"Yes, Because you almost became one." I chuckled.

Greta sneered: "Yes, A lady of a few outlets to the world like myself is in a direct path to spinsterhood, Unless she puts effort to work out her charms on eligible feeble minded men. That lady will be you."

"Who said all men have feeble mines?"

She began to giggle: "You are jousting right?"

"I must be an ignorant fool." I remarked dramaticly. Trying to act like Greta.

An idea came to Greta's mind: "After we get you dressed. I will bring you out into the city and we will go to the bookstore. Delilah! Please help me with this ignorant woman!"

Delilah agreed and followed Greta. The unexpected thing was that my young aunt treated her servant like her best friend. Because of her social climbing tendency. Greta stirred most of her old lady friends away in order to live a luxurious life style with a richer husband. The price to pay for riches was her happiness and friends.

Greta and her husband's room was unexpectedly simple. The walls were white and the wood floor had a large ottoman carpet. A cosmetic desk with a mirror. A bed with soft pillows and blankets. A closet and a bucket. Windows with drapes.

I was dressed in a magnolia colored satin dress with, bodice, fake flowers, embroidery, ribbons, and lace. Lastly heeled shoes. Delilah styled my hair and tied a flowered bonnet around my head.

"You look beautiful, Lady Helene." Delilah said finishing her master piece.

"You are an artist." I hugged her.

"Now let's prim up our dear Delilah."

After dressing up. We headed out into the city. We entered into the corner bookstore and my aunt spoke to the man at the desk. He gave her five books and we sat in two chairs.

She gave me a book that had nasty pictures. "Uhm, What is this?"

"Oh, Sorry. That one is for me..." She gave me another book.

"A self help book?" I said to Greta.

"Helene, You need it. Your many current dilemmas demand it." She claimed looking down at the picture book.

"I can talk to people just finely without being judgemental." I assured myself and Greta in a way."Wait... Is someone watching us?" I looked out the window.

Greta agreed:"We have protection... Don't worry."


	3. The Spy Of Two Worlds

[M.Gag: This will contain racial slurs for Irish people other than that 'cabbage farmer' one. So don't think I'm being racist cuz I'm Irish as well and if I was being racist I would be a hypocrite! Personally my favorite part of Rouge was beating the crap out of Veryndre... Whatever his jackass name was. Also if l'm being racist to french people know that the french side of my family was guillotined over two hundred years ago. Yep long dead.]

The drunken low dweller was an idiot named Tillman Schultz. He spent most of his time at The Cock Fight Tavern. I wanted to speak to him. He was indeed: A thug. No decency included. Just back stabbing criminals.

Due to the possible harassment onto my fairer gender in this place of drunkards and gamblers. I had an escort. A knight in shining armor to punch the facials of the debaucherously drunk. Maybe shining is to far from the bleak truth... You already guessed and Monro made your prediction a reality. So putting forth his name would not be worth the ink of my quill.

As I walked into the tavern. All eyes turned to my insignificant presence! By description Tillman was supposed to be wearing a coat of deer skins and leathers similar to what the tribes of the Iroquois confederation wore. They even called him a half breed. My gaze found him sitting alone in the corner of the bar in the shadows. There were several candles laid about on the tables brightening the sight of food and drinks.

To my ill fortune, A tall man who's breath smelt of a whiskey lullaby forced me against one of the pillars holding up the ceiling. I could feel his hot breath against my face as he mumbled something untellible in French. Where was my protector?

"Leave me at once! You drunkard!" I demanded not backing down from the beboozilled fool.

"I believe you better go home, Stranger." Shay took the man by the shoulder.

"You can't tell me what to do! Cuchulain!" The man slapped his hand away and tried to slug Cormac but his drunken stupor left him at a disadvantage and he missed. "What are you going to do to me? Cast your magic on me with your shillelagh?"

With just using my survival instincts. I smited my knuckles across his face, "Shut your beak! You stuttering cockatoo!"

"You bitch!" He bellowed as a bruise took form on his cheek. The man tried to punch me back but Shay caught his hand with his own and pushed the drunk back with ease and stomped on his whiskey filled stomach as he fell to the dirty floor. This Arse-hole just laid there regurgitating his whisky and drowning in it. [This guy will be back! And he's not as he seems.]

Surprisingly our actions didn't bring crowds because everyone was basically drunk off their asses and reduced to a beer empowered lethargic coma. My right punching hand began to throb as I walked and sat down across from Tillman at a comfortable distance. Cormac stayed at the front door of the tavern and turned his head but listened acutely.

"Are you Tillman Schultz?" I requested.

"I may be and you?" He replied with a deep voice.

"I am Helene Van Brynn. You are familiar my templer aunt and uncle Slade? You gave them information about my where abouts?" I added earnestly.

"I'm just a Templer informant and yes... I go by that name. If you were wise and cautious you would watch everything and everyone." The tan skinned man revealed. "Other than that, I have been with Daniel Crackerhouse and his little treasure hunt for his master for the past four months. He is still alive and is coming your way... When he does make sure your Irish cat is there to hunt the mouse."

"Why don't you kill him yourself?"

"Causing death isn't a key part of my trade." He defended.

"Yes, You are a spy. That is how you can exist freely amongst the anarchists assassins." I revealed that little piece of truth.

"Indeed. The man with you was an assassin, I recall his face from a time I visited their Master assassin. He is fortunate to still be alive. It will be an astonishing moment once they find out their former brother joined their nemesis." Tillman smirked uncouthly looking into his glass of ale.

"Why are you telling me all of this?"

"You should know the people around you. The ignorant do not last long here." He jeered taking in sarcasm.

"So I shouldn't trust anyone? The only person I don't trust is you."

"Yes, I can understand why you don't."

"I suppose: You are going to tell them about him?" I assumed.

"No, That would jeopardize my activities. I like the excitement of all this, You Helene don't know what you have jolted yourself into." He said getting up in his seat and tempted to leave. I stopped him from leaving by blocking his way.

"Why are you an agent?"

Tillman sighed, "I was born of two worlds. I belong to neither, My mother's or my father's."

Yes, The worlds of the European and the Native Americans as different and unaccepting of each other so they refuse to co-exist. The Assassins and Templers share the same problem but it's of ideals and not race yet both are rather trivial. Why wouldn't I trust my family and a man who rescued me from certain death and returned me to my family? This Tillman was trying to confuse me. Why?


End file.
